An Old Acquaintance (FrUk)
by ObeytheMochi
Summary: "Hell no! This is Arthur… I guess you could call him," He looked behind him, seeing he was still asleep, he drooling on his shirt. He closed his eyes, sighing while he turned his head back towards the doorman. "He's not a friend, that's for sure."


Francis's hands rested on the backside of the other's knees while he clung to the others back like he was defenseless. "You're getting pretty heavy." He chuckled while he felt Arthur's arm fall on his shoulder as it pointed outward. He kept walking, feeling the breeze push his blonde strains into Arthur's face, causing a nearly silent snicker to press past his lips.

"Hey! You know," He started, smacking his lips slightly. "….I can't remember what I was going to say, but I'm sure it was something like 'fuck you'." He informed, making the other chuckle again. "It's not funny; it's serious." Arthur insured.

Francis let his hands slip slightly, causing the other to claw at his back in a rush. "That's right!" He started, making his grip secure once again, relieving Arthur. He rested his head sleepily onto the white clothed shoulder, closing his eyes. "Remember who is carrying you and maybe you would think twice before you say things like that." He continued to scold slightly.

His blue eyes watched the darkened streets, looking for the road to turn down to get to Arthur's apartment complex but couldn't seem to remember. He looked to his left, seeing Arthur had fallen asleep while he was carried.

He smirked, looking at how helpless he looked. It was more amusing than anything else; more so when the next day, Arthur would declare how strong he really was.

'Stupid.' Francis thought to himself, pushing Arthur up once he felt him starting to slip. "You're so stupid." He chuckled aloud, feeling the other's head twist to the other side, looking out into the streets that were lighten up brightly by the street lights that stood tall.

Remembering where Arthur lived had finally come back to him along with the acknowledgment of how far it actually was. Biting his lip in a ponderous way, he decided to just walk him to his apartment since it was starting to get late. Usually, by 11:45 he would get a call from Arthur every Saturday night and listen to his babbling, only able to hear the words 'Come get me, bastard.' Pass through his lips.

And instinctively, he would gather his shoes, pulling his hair into a half-assed, low ponytail and walk down the hall, to the elevator and begin his walk towards the bar on thirty second street. Trains and busses hardly ever worked this late; only time is during the holidays.

Taxis did, though; but who would want to pay such an outrageous fee when you could walk and keep the French girl figure?

And then he would do heavy lifting placing the Englishmen on his back.

Francis opened the glass door to the best of his ability, pulling him and Arthur in. While he walked through, the door hit Arthur's head slightly, still not waking him, though. Francis grinned, a small laugh coming past his lips while the one who was working the front desk smiled as well.

"Who's this? That's a new one." He started, placing a pen in his fingers while twirling it out of boredom. "Is that your brother or something? I always see you walking past here with him on your back." He laughed.

Francis's eyes went wide while he pressed the elevator's button. "Hell no! This is Arthur… I guess you could call him," He looked behind him, seeing he was still asleep, he drooling on his shirt. He closed his eyes, sighing while he turned his head back towards the doorman. "He's not a friend, that's for sure."

"Well that's weird; I see you and him often together." He said while the dig of the elevator rung through the lobby.

Francis stepped in. "I know." He started, hitting the third floor's button. "I heard." The doors closed.

He looked back over at Arthur, wondering what exactly he would consider him. 'If anything,' he thought, looking straightforward, watching the doors. 'He's an old acquaintance.' He insured himself, seeing that the elevator had taken him to his floor.

And with that, the doors parted their ways and he walked out, Arthur still clinging to his back. And as he walked down the hall, he remembered that he had locked the door and his keys were still in his jacket's pocket.

'Shit.' He thought to himself once he reached his door. He stood there for a second and let his arm fall from the underneath of Arthur's knee, making his leg fall and hover over the carpeted flooring. His left hand was now digging through his left-side pocket, but he felt nothing. "Shit!" He said aloud while he tried to grab Arthur's leg. And once he did, he allowed his other hand to fall into his right pocket, shuffling around to find his key.

He felt Arthur starting to sleep while he felt his keys at the bottom of the pit in his jacket, making him rush. But it was too late; for Arthur had fallen to the flooring while Francis pulled the keys out of his jacket's right side pocket.

"Damn it all to hell! Come here!" He shouted in frustration, trying to pick Arthur up the best he could but he was unresponsive due to his deep, alcohol induced sleep. He then heard someone's door open.

"…What are you doing?" He heard his neighbor, Rodrich say. He looked up at him, his jaw unlatched while he was picking up Arthur with his hands underneath his armpits, his head dangling downward while he was still placed on the flooring. Rodrich's eyes went wide. "I-Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance?" His voice started to go panicked.

Francis let go of him to wave his hands in defense while standing upright. But that only caused Arthur to fall back down, his hanging forward over his feet while he snored lightly. "No, no, no! He's fine; he's just shitfaced right now! No need to call anybody, he'll be okay." He said, rushing to grab him again.

Once he did, he flung him over his shoulder, unlocking his door while he felt violet eyes pierce his backside. "N-no need to worry, Rodrich." He started, turning back around, smiling at him while he waved his hand. "He'll be safe in my hands." He turned back around, walking through the open door. And then, he accidently banged Arthur into the doorframe. "Fuck." He muttered to himself, turning to his side while he inched his way into the door. He looked nervously at Rodrich, smiling in a nearly reinsuring way. "We're good now!" He said, laughing while he let his hand go onto the door when he was inside. "Night, Rodrich! Sleep tight."

Rodrich stared at him, judgmentally. "Night, Francis." He pointed at Arthur's lifeless looking figure. "I hope your friend is okay." He shut his door and so did Francis.

He walked over to his couch, letting his 'friend' down onto it gently. He then took the blanket he kept on the couch and covered him in. He sat down on the side that was uninhabited by Arthur's protruding feet. "Great," he put his head in his hands, smiling. "Everyone things I either drugged him of committed a murder." He picked his head back up, taking his blonde hair out of his ponytail and looked over towards Arthur. "Are you happy now?" He smiled, seeing he was still sleeping.

The curve of finally stopped once he saw a bruise starting to form on his forehead. He then got to his feet, grabbed some ice out of the freezer to put it in a small baggy. Francis opened the drawer and took a rag out to wrap it around in the cloth.

"Here." He said, placing it on his head, thinking he could hear him and respond. "I didn't do anything to you." Francis informed, watching as the rag slipped down in between Arthur's body and the couch. Groaning, he grabbed it, sitting back down in that same spot. "You can't do anything for yourself, can you?" He took the rag, holding it on his bruise.

He looked forward, seeing he had left the T.V on. He didn't know what show he had left on, but he decided to watch it carelessly; feeling the chill of the ice escape into his fingers.

"Please, please stay with me." He turned his head, hearing the T.V's volume echo through the room, he, absentmindedly, reached for the remote, increasing the volume.

 _Every Saturday night, almost religiously, he would mosey down to the bar to retrieve Arthur's intoxicated figure and walk him back home. He was committed to this 'ritual' and never skipped it._

 _"Is that your brother? Your friend?_

 _"No! He's... not a friend at all."_

 _Then what was he?_

 _An old acquaintance._

 _That is all._

"I'm so in love with you." The T.V went on, making Francis's eyes blossom open. "Please, don't go."

 _Childhood enemies._

 _Adult acquaintances._

 _That is it; nothing more._

He looked over at Arthur, seeing that his eyes were covered with the rag. He pushed the rag off, watching it fall back in between the figure and the couch. Blue eyes trailed to the red mark that rested on the other's forehead.

Sucking on his bottom lip, he stood to his feet, walking into his bedroom. He grabbed something off his bed and walked back into the living area where Arthur was. He then moved the other's head and stuck a pillow underneath his sleeping figure.

~

Rubbing his face, he woke up while a ponding rang through his head. He groaned, turning over his hand still over his eyes. "…This isn't my house." He muttered once he allowed his eyes to see around him.

"No, it isn't, Einstein." Francis replied, walking in front of his vision. Arthur looked up at him, his eyes squinted. "Now, go tell my neighbors I didn't kill you, please. I have a reputation I need to protect." He said, walking back towards the kitchen. "Coffee?" He asked, his back still turned towards him.

Arthur sat up, the dark blue blanket falling to his lap once he did. "Uh, please." He rubbed his blonde hair and saw, from the corner of his eye, Francis grabbing two coffee mugs and filling them with the brown, bitter water. "I like mine black." Arthur informed.

Francis smiled, walking over and gave him the decorative cup. "Bitter, like you, huh?" He chuckled; taking a sip of is coffee. Arthur smiled, rolling his eyes.

"Well, why sweeten it when you could have it in its purest form?"

"I feel that's what cherry boys say to make themselves feel better." He replied, making Arthur smile while he took a sip.

He looked down at the floor, still smiling. "You're the worst." He looked up at him. "Thanks for getting me last night… I know, it was later than usual; sorry about that."

"No need to worry." He placed his coffee cup onto the table, sitting on the couch next to him; the same spot he did last night. "But…" He hesitated. "Why?"

Arthur was puzzled. "Why what?" He took another sip of coffee.

Francis looked down at the flooring, rubbing the back of his neck. He let his arm fall while he sighed a bit. "Why do you drink so much? I mean, it's surely surpassed the fun of it. More so when you do it alone."

He growled. "No reason!" He seemed to snap. There was a silence between the two, the T.V still on. Francis's eyes went towards it, seeing if that would mend the awkwardness between the two that crept up suddenly. "To forget."

Francis whipped his head towards him; this time, he was questionable. "Forget? What is there to forget?"

"Everything." Arthur chuckled darkly, looking up at Francis. He rubbed his eyes. "I mean, where do I begin? First of all, Alfred, remember him?" Francis nodded his head. "He never calls me back after our few dates. We met in February, and what is it now? November? In those months he's only called me what, maybe five, six times and even then they're fucking booty calls. But I'm the damn idiot who's stupid enough to fall for his tricks. I fuck up everything I do, you know? If I was able to put my foot down, I'm sure things would change." He started, his eyes starting to water slightly. "I try and try and try. I put my heart out on the line and it's just… Why do I try anymore? It's easier to forget and forget but even then it's only for a little while."

 _"_ _Please, please stay with me. I am so in love with you. Please, don't go."_

"Have you ever been a booty call?" He asked in a serious tone. Francis never knew that was possible, but he made the word 'booty call' stick to a serious sense. "It's the worst feeling in the world. And the worst part is that you know what you are. You know that they're just using you for a quick fuck. You feel like you can't say no, you know why? 'Cause in the moment, you feel loved. You feel like you matter when in reality they see you less than trash. That's my life right now; I'm living trash."

 _"_ _I am so in love with you."_

"No one is able to love trash." He placed his coffee cup onto the table, sighing. "But that's how the fucking cookie crumbles."

There was only the sound of the television's show that was on display echoing through the room. But Francis's broke it. "…No."

Arthur shut his eyes, crossing his arms. "No? What the hell does that even mean?"

"You're not trash, okay?" He started, his voice starting to rise slightly. "Because I'm sure someone does love you." He went on, thinking. Francis didn't want to lie to him, but he was starting to feel as if he was starting to believe this acquaintance was something more. "…I'm certain someone does."

"Don't lie, you dumbass." Arthur replied, turning over so he didn't face him. "I'll leave in a little; I just need to get my head together."

 _"_ _Please, don't go._

"I am certain there is. And I don't think you should think so lowly of yourself since there is something in everyone that someone wants and desires." Francis went on, ignoring Arthur. "In the beginning, I did not like you one bit. I will admit I thought you were the ugliest person."

Arthur turned over. "Well gee! I feel so much better now!" He shouted sarcastically.

"Not looks wise! God!" Francis announced. "I just thought you were hateful and just… Anyway, but as we grew up, I realized I was wrong. I've been wrong this whole time." He chuckled to himself. "You are one of the best people to me."

"Stop talking out of your ass." Arthur stood up, walking towards the door. "I'm leaving. Thanks again."

 _"_ _Please, please stay with me."_

Francis stood up and walked after him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him against the door; the green eyes went to the size of baseballs. "W-w-would you let it go!? I'm sorry I ever opened up to you. It always ends up like this!"

"No, it won't." He said, resting his forehead on Arthurs. "It won't ever end up like that."

"I've heard that far too many times. Just let me leave and I won't talk to you ever again, I promise." He said, turning his head away from Francis's glance. He chuckled.

"I've heard that far too many times, too." He replied.

"From who?" Arthur asked, turning his head back to him. Francis's eyes softened while he smiled towards him.

"You."

"Really?" He asked, his cheeks starting to go scarlet. "I'm usually a man of my word."

Francis chuckled, letting go of him while he turned his back to him. He sat down on the couch, looking over at him still against the door. "Then, what makes you stay?"

Arthur looked down at his feet. "I don't know. I honestly do not know." He walked back towards Francis, his head hanging low. He sat back down next to him to look down at his lap.

"Arthur, I think I love you."

"Don't go around saying such things so freely." Arthur replied quickly, looking up towards him. Francis smiled towards him, his head in his hands while he looked at him in admiration. He had never had someone look at him in such a way before.

"Why would I lie about such a thing?" He scooted closer towards Arthur. "I can help you forget." He said, making Arthur laugh a bit. "What's so funny?" He chuckled along with him.

He turned his head towards him, smiling brightly. "That was so cheesy." He rested his head on the others shoulder like before.

He turned towards him once again, letting his finger go to the bottom of the other's chin and lifted it upward, landing a small kiss to his lips. "You have no idea how much I love you." He said, this time with confidence. "So please, this time, don't go away."


End file.
